


The King's Guard

by KhameirSarin



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fantasy AU, Rating might increase later, and just, but hey, fucking dunked them in some weird Dragon Age/Game of Thrones/World of Warcraft world, i got a bunch of wrestlers alright?, i love fantasy aus so im gonna fucking do it, it might become shippy too, like m8 its not even about wrestling, this is so fucking au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5567593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhameirSarin/pseuds/KhameirSarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Barrett had always dreamed of life outside of the castle grounds, and is prepared to risk whatever he has to get it. But when the royal family of Hawkscourt is threatened by an unknown menace, the prince is assigned a personal guard by the name of Sheamus, who he believes might just be the escape route he's looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cloak

Large, grey stone walls surrounded the port city of Hawkscourt, looming over the houses, shops and other assorted buildings protected inside. It was past midday in the late week, and the city was alive with the bustle of everyday life. Humans, alongside creatures such as Elves and Dwarfs, made their way along hastily paved and narrow walkways, while children of drastically differing appearances shared a common interest in throwing rocks off of the bridges that connected these paths over clear green-blue rivers. Consistently taking delight in the splashing and plopping made by this activity, one young orc child began to throw everything she could get her short, stumpy fingers on: including an elven friend's new green shoe. A small scuffle began between the children present, while none of them noticed a silver tinted selkie reach up to return the rescued item. 

 

Deeper into the city, the castle stood proud and tall on top of a emerald green hill, it's garden boasting a goldmine of flowers originating from locations stretched throughout the lands. Stain-glass windows reflected filled it's main hall with rainbows of dancing light. Inside, a group of elite bards played their songs to the royal family, rapidly loosing the attention of the prince, who instead gazed out at the busy docks, desperately trying to think of ways to reach them.

Back at the entrance to the city, people wondered in and out the gates, sifting through the guards. Some had come here for a visit, to see family or stay near the docksides, however most were looking to make some easy money in the capital city. Not that work was thriving, of course.  
One figure seemed to command authority over the crowds, passing through them with ease, while simultaneously managing to go unnoticed. The large creature was hidden under a deep green cloak, a strong yellow lining catching the sun as it swayed. The garment not only concealed whoever was within it, but also the hefty weapon they carried. 

One guard started to approach the green shape, but lost interest when a gloved hand emerged and gestured his way. The warm breeze that suddenly danced across the back of her neck seemed far more interesting. Again the stranger retreated inside their disguise, barely breaking a stride in the process. 

 

They progressed further and further into the city, past the slums and it's putrid stench, past the warm and more inviting scents of the bakery, and into the district where armour and weaponry lined the windows, reflecting light from the sun onto the rivers outside. Multiple taverns closed the gaps between each store, and many residents of the nearby area thought that fits of drunken rage and readily available weapons was a bad mix, but either way business was booming for both sides of the trade, and the doctors across the street were getting their fair share of business, so complaints weren't frequent. As the stranger entered one of the quieter establishments, he caught the attention of the man behind the bar, who waved him over with a huge grin on his face. 

The bartender was a stocky man, little over 6 feet tall with broad shoulders and large arms which threatened to break the lightly coloured linen shirt he wore. Dark hair fell around his face and over his shoulders, as well as coating his face and chest. Dark brown eyes lit up as the mystery figure approached, and his entire face lifted from it's previously grumpy demeanour. 

At last the hood of the cloak was removed, pulled back over their head to reveal paper-white skin, and the light brown freckles that danced over it. A messy mowhawk of the most saturated ginger colour lay brushed back against the man's scalp, and thin braids hung down from his beard, framing a now-growing smile. He stood taller than the bartender, who was now calling to one of the head waitresses, and rivalled him in muscle mass, although the paler man's muscles were much more defined, noticeable even under the thin black shirt he wore, although his arms had the advantage of being left uncovered. 

"Lana," the shorter man continued to call to the waitress while his friend advanced forward. "Look who has come!"

His voice had a thick accent, marking him as a man who once lived far from this land, and bellowed loud enough for the whole bar to hear, and was likely audible on the streets outside too. The blonde waitress he had been calling to, Lana, simply waved him off, muttering about how she was too busy running his business for him. Giving up, he returned his attention to his friend, coming around from behind the bar to bring him into a hug. 

 

"Sheamus, it has been too long!" He called out, far too loud for the little distance between them. He pulled out of the hug, holding the redhead in place to get a good look at him. "It has been so long, what are you doing here? Are you well?"

The hint of concern in his booming voice triggered a slight chuckle from Sheamus, who just smiled and shook his head. 

"I'm fine, Rusev. Just been travelling around a lot as of late, came here for some work opportunities."

Now it was Rusev's turn to shake his head as he started to respond. 

 

"Coming here for work was a bad idea; jobs are minimal and the slums are bigger than ever." Lana chimed in to the conversation, a wooden drinks tray tucked underneath her arms. "People come, they blow their money on booze and then they leave. Good business for us, but not so good for the city's reputation, you see?"

Sheamus nodded grimly in understanding. He knew the situation was bad, but not as bad as Lana had described it. After all these years, he'd forgotten how authoritative her voice was, commanding attention from anybody he spoke to. She definitely knew what she was talking about.

"Thanks for the warning lass, but I've already got myself a position somewhere. As long as everything goes to plan, that is."

"And a place to stay? Inn's are charging ridiculous prices, and if you can't pay th-"  
"Nonsense, Lana! We will not let a friend be ripped off by the competition! Feel free to stay here as long as you need, we may not have much room but you can sleep in here." As long as you don't mind the noise, Rusev added mentally. "All we ask is that you don't kill the customers."

Now completely free of his cloak, Sheamus stood in a black open shirt and leather trousers of a similar colour, fiddling with the dark bracers he wore around his wrists. His matching boots looked over sized and were coated in mud from the long trek he had just been on, but in actual fact were a perfect fit and had lasted him for years. He went from tying the bracers to adjusting the ring in the centre of his nose, raising an eyebrow at Rusev's comment, before watching the barman's eyes go to the weighty sword at his side. He held up his hands in mock surrender. 

"Don't worry fella, I don't do that anymore. I have better ways of making money than picking fights with drunken fools, I told you already."

\---------------------- ------------------------------ ------------------------------ ------------------------------ 

Sheamus dragged in long, deep breaths of sea air as he stood at the docks. After spending a few hours reminiscing with Rusev, he'd left the bar to wonder around the unfamiliar landscape of Hawkscourt. If all went to plan, he'd need to learn the ins and outs of this city with haste, so any prior knowledge was an advantage he'd need. The large redhead now watched the sunset with an intense concentration, admiring the way its bathed the streets and building with its soft glow, reacting with the waterways to create a maze of deep orange liquid. Mermaids lulled their children to sleep in the waves. For usually alert creatures, they were seemingly oblivious to being watched, acting as if there wasn't a human pacing the wooden pathways stretching over the water.  
His cape swayed in the breeze, casting a dark reflection over the water's gently rolling surface, when suddenly an abrupt noise brought the calm to a standstill. Silver coloured fish dived to the seabed. The mothering mermaids scattered for cover behind jagged rocks. Birds, previously occupied by a dead crab, dispersed into the air in reaction to the noise, and the bay was once again silenced. The only audible sound was the shouts of men behind the fishing huts. 

 

"That's a nice coat you've got there," the overweight orc spat as he admired the young man's purple garment, rubbing his mucky hands on it's sleeves. "Who'dya kill for it?"

The man in the coat, a lanky human with dark brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, stuttered in response, backing up against the wooden planks of the building behind him. The orc's partner, a blue-skinned troll with posture noticeably off balance, just scoffed in response. 

"He really look like he's killed anyone? Really?" Rolling his eyes, the troll continued. "I say we ask him nicely, he looks like he'll hand it over before we have to-"

A crack of the knuckles gave enough of a hint as to what he meant, and the brunette instantly pulled his arms out of his coat, throwing it to the brutes in an attempt to get an easy way out. However, the rest of his ensemble was equally flamboyant, and both attackers realised they could get a rather enticing bag of gold from selling it. As if acting as one, they both began to advance forward, driving the lone human further back into the wall. Their cackles were repulsive, and the orc had to sniff every twenty seconds, a random trait the previously purple-clad man had noticed.

 

But before the attackers got any closer, they encountered an obstacle that strangely neither they nor their victim had noticed before, a large man cloaked in green who had seemingly just stepped into the situation. He was face to face with the brutish creatures, one hand held out as if guarding the other man while the other hand rested on his weapon, giving a suggestion of violence all of his own. They started to take the hint, taking a few steps back to a more comfortable distance, but seemed to change their minds, once again bringing themselves up to full heights to continue their confrontation. 

"Fellas, I thought I was making it pretty clear that you should back off." Sheamus raised the still-sheathed sword and tilted his head in a fake display of confusion. He continued sarcastically by raising his voice. "Or are your ears too chewed up to hear me?"

 

The oversized orc -who's ears were ripped to shred for some reason or another- immediately lunged at him, swinging one large fist directly in line with his face. Instead of hitting it's mark, the fist continued to swing round as the ginger man ducked, pulling a much smaller weapon from his belt and planting it firmly into the wobbling bicep. The fight was over before it really began, the troll running to aid its friend and discarding the coat to the mucky ground beneath as they ran. Letting out a puff of breath, Sheamus turned to the stranger. He replaced the weapon in his belt before holding out his hand, offering a handshake to the still shaking brunette. 

After retrieving his nearly ruined garment, he took the handshake. Sheamus immediately noticed how tall they were, making even himself look small in comparison, at least height-wise. The second thing he took into account was how out of place his nose seemed, all broken and busted up. Quite the contrast to his fancy embroidered clothing and heeled boots. Sheamus chuckled; he liked it.

 

"The name's Sheamus, and my question is what the hell are you doing here? You got a name?"

"Name?" He stuttered once again, but his voice was deep. It was clear he was stalling for a fake name, or at least an abreviation of his name that would allow him to go unnoticed, but he seemed to give up. "It's Bar- Wade. I'm Wade."

"Wade, huh?" Sheamus nodded in acknowladgement. "I suppose you won't be answering my first question, but hey, I'm not one to judge."

"I suppose I should be thanking you for chasing those guys off, huh?"

"Just do me a favour and follow me. Closely."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want an idea of what Sheamus' cape is suppose to look like, it's like the one he wore in his 2010 king of the ring reign, only without the sleeve holes and with a really big hood. Also, I wanted to do a longer chapter, but I'd already left too long in between updates, so I though something would be much better than nothing. Hope you enjoy, and remember: Comments mean faster updates :)

"Follow me. Closely." These were the words that the bright haired stranger had said, and so far, Wade was following them to the best of his abilities. He hadn't quite realised how closely his rescuer had wanted the younger man to follow him at first, but after some prompting the two now walked, nearly arm in arm, as the green clock brushed over his shoulders.  
The cloak itself was a sight to behold, Wade thought. It was relatively simple in comparison to his own wardrobe, but its strong colour and golden embroidery was enough to label it as a thing of beauty drawing attention from all bystanders. At least it should. Somehow, Wade, the redheaded man and his magnificent cape had been, and were still, going completely unnoticed from anyone around them. Not even one person had cast them a sideways glance, which was even more surprising considering the pair's nearly towering heights. 

Realising the man in the purple coat wasn't paying enough attention to keep up with him, Sheamus quickly linked arms with him before gliding around a corner, taking the two of them onto a street he knew already. Rusev's bar, his temporary residence, was waiting a few yards away. Sheamus figured this would be the safest place to go largely due to the fact he was familiar with it's layout as well as it's owner.

"Well, Wade." Sheamus said with a tone that implied the knowledge of a fake name, but didn't press the matter. "I'd suggest that you stick with me for a while, unless you want to run into anymore of those fellas?"

Wade, in response, shook his head exaggeratedly, quickly turning behind to check again, just in case. Sheamus chuckled slightly in response and assured him there was no one there. 

"Trust me. None of them will be approaching while I'm around." And for some reason he trusted this man more than he could explain.

The ginger introduced him to Rusev, the bartender, who welcomed him with a hearty laugh and a pint of mead. He found it was quite up to him normal standard of what he would drink, but he couldn't deny that in some way it was surprisingly good. Even if the pair had mocked him for how delicately he drank. His flustered response set them off even more, although when he grabbed the tankard in one firm grip to down the drink, their laughter erupted into excitable cheers. Wade's response was almost a giggle, accompanied by a burp that seemed to make himself jump. His suprise continued when he felt a hand settle delicately on his shoulder, while their other hand placed a fresh drink in front of him. He turned to see the blonde waitress as she made her way around the table to settle with Rusev. With how loud the trio were being, he couldn't help but forget about the rest of the tavern's dwellers. And yet, with all the commotion they seemed to be causing, nobody gave them a second glance. Again, he couldn't explain why, but Wade felt safe.   
At some point, the bartender and his wife had left leaving Sheamus and Wade to talk over a table of empty tankards.

"How much have you even had?" Wade muttered, slightly tipsy. He'd only had two himself, but he could tell this was a lot stronger than the more tasteful wines he would usually drink. Sheamus grinned as he replied, making a mental note not to let the other man drink too much more; he needed to get him home in one piece.

"More than you, fella." He replied. In all honesty he hadn't been counting, but he new he could handle his drink well and didn't worry about it too much. His tone suddenly became a touch more serious as he leaned forward to rest his bare arms on the table. "What are you doin' here, Wade?"

The brunette stuttered at the question. He knew he couldn't blatantly tell the other man, but there had to be some explanation that wasn't a full on lie. After all, he was fairly sure this man had saved his life. He owed him at least some form of the truth. 

"I needed to get out for a while." Good start, he thought sarcastically. "Well, I was bored-" Not much better. "I don't get out much-"  
His eyes drifted up from their stare on the table only to be met with a pair of inquisitive eyes. Wade certainly hadn't noticed how piercingly blue the redhead's eyes were before. They were quite beautiful, he had to admit. Sheamus seemed to catch on to what he was thinking, and smiled sincerely. It was infectious, and Wade ended up smiling himself before his eyes flashed back down to the table as he could tell the heat had risen to his cheeks, and buried his face in a drink, hiding his nervous blush. 

"Don't worry, I won't ask anymore if you don't want to tell." Sheamus said. He already had a pretty good grasp of what was going on, and could understand Wade's desire for secrecy. "I'll just need to know where I'm walking you to."  
Walking him home? The though had never crossed Wade's mind before. He certainly didn't want to make his own way back through the city, but he couldn't have the other man accompany him the whole way back. That would blow everything. This whole idea had been a mistake, and he knew it. He trusted the man he was with, and was so thankful to heave met him, but how had nobody figured out who he was yet? He put it down to luck, but by the events that set the evening rolling, with the orc and the troll, said otherwise. He was never that lucky after all. In all likely hood, Sheamus had probably cottoned on to what was happening, and was either hiding it out of respect, or was hatching some kind of plan. He hoped and suspected that it was the first choice, but a small, nagging feeling told him it was the second. He had no reason not to trust him but he had to remind himself to be careful. His chain of thought was cut off when a pale hand reached to his, gently pulling the empty tankard away from his face.

"Wade. It's empty." 

"Right."


End file.
